


kinktober day 8

by Sang_argente



Series: kinktober 2018 [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Prostitution, Underage Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 10:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16262498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sang_argente/pseuds/Sang_argente
Summary: Something flashes in Peter's eyes but Stiles ignores it. Instead, he plays with his sleeves, long mesh things that curl over his fingers. He widens his eyes and pouts his mouth and pretends, once again, that he wants this.





	kinktober day 8

Ever since Stiles hit fifteen, he’d tell his dad he was spending the weekend at Scott's and hop a bus down to San Francisco after school. Money was short, he knew that. He also knew that he had the kind of look perverted old men loved to ruin. The trick was getting far enough away from home to not be recognized.

He spent the next two year hanging out on street corners barely dressed or in a seedy motel room with one man or another. He comes home on Sunday nights and prepares for the week ahead. Sometimes he has to draw runes on his skin to hide blood and bruises from the pack. It'd be easier if he could just get them tattooed but he knows that would drop his street value. He was already barely clinging to the youth and innocence that pulled in the money in the first place.

But he keeps going. Money’s still tight and his dad still works too much and Stiles still feels guilty about it. He laughs and flails and blusters with the pack when it comes to sex, but the truth is he's tired.

So maybe he's not as guarded as he should be, one late October evening. He's been standing on the corner for almost four hours, shivering in the breeze and feeling sick to his stomach. He wonders if this was it, the beginning of the end. So, yeah, maybe he should've recognized the car that pulled up in front of him and maybe he shouldn't have leaned in, but he did.

“Derek lets you drive his car?” Stiles blurts out before he can stop himself.

Peter smiles at him like the wolf he is. “Your father lets you come down here to sell your body?”

And Stiles is just too tired, alright? He drops the flailing act and instead pulls on a slow, sweet smile.

“Fair enough,” he says. “What can I do for you tonight, Peter?”

Something flashes in Peter's eyes but Stiles ignores it. Instead, he plays with his sleeves, long mesh things that curl over his fingers. He widens his eyes and pouts his mouth and pretends, once again, that he wants this.

“Get in,” Peter growls.

Stiles slips into the car and curls up in the seat, making sure to angle his long bare legs toward Peter. He stays focused on one thing, his hand petting over the tight muscles in Peter's thigh. It's his trick to keep the client interested, keep them thinking he's interested, and keep himself from losing what little he managed to choke down for dinner.

When they stop, Stiles looks up and almost snorts. Of course Peter wouldn't go to some place like the DayLite Inn, which charges by the hour for a reason. Stiles locks his self consciousness away and follows Peter into the Hilton. He smiles coquettishly at the desk attendant and shakes his ass as he walks, knowing all those well to do men are watching with greed in their eyes. He leans into Peter when the wolf finally grabs his arm, claws pricking him, and he fawns over him to make sure that those men know that no matter how much money they have there's only one he's going home with tonight. It reassures his more insecure clients but Stiles can tell Peter finds it amusing and something else he can't quite put his finger on.

They reach the room and Peter pushes him into the bathroom. The wolf claws his mesh top off and slits the leather shorts down the sides so they fall to the floor on their own.

“You're paying for those,” Stiles says, staring down at the fabric. Those shorts hadn't been cheap.

Peter nods and starts the shower. He strips his own clothes and steps under the water, pulling Stiles with him. He's quiet as he scrubs Stiles down, cleaning him with the complimentary soap and shampoo. It's not until he's bent over washing the tender soles of his feet that Stiles feels the need to speak.

“Why are you doing this?”

Peter gives him a look. “You smell like too many other people. It sets my wolf on edge. Despite what you may believe, I don't want to hurt you.”

“So you are going to fuck me,” Stiles guesses.

“Yes, Stiles, I'm going to fuck you.”

“Good.” When he sees Peter's raised eyebrow, he elaborates. “I know you can afford it. In fact, I think I'll charge you double just because you're a werewolf.”

Peter stands and face Stiles, nodding. “A good rule to have. There are many inherent dangers when it comes to mating a wolf.”

Stiles shuts the water off and steps out, lets Peter towel him dry.

“Go lay down on the bed, on your stomach,” Peter says before he can ask. “Make sure you're comfortable. You're going to be there for a while.”

Stiles does as he's told and is rewarded with two hundred pounds of hot werewolf covering his back. Peter nuzzles into his neck and nips at the skin with what Stiles can tell is fangs.

Heavy hands rub down his side, fingers tapping on his ribs. He can feel Peter's thick cock laying against his ass like a brand.

“I'm ready,” Stiles says, points out really. He doesn't like the way he feels under Peter. It's not like he usually is with clients.

“I don't know how this usually goes for you, but I assure you unless you are lubed and stretched you are not ready for me.”

“I am. I mean, I am lubed and stretched. I have a plug, I'm using it now I mean. How did you not notice it?”

Peter's hand slides down to his ass, spreading his cheeks open. He taps on the plug and Stiles moans.

“It's glass,” Peter says, tone curious. “Why?”

Stiles turns his head to look at Peter over his shoulder, baffled. “I prefer glass?”

“...”

“Oh! Uh, in my experience, not a lot of people want to take the time to prep so I make sure I come out ready.”

Peter's lip curls but he nods anyway, as if he thought that might be the answer.

“Very well,” he says quietly. He slips the plug out and lays it on the bedside table before reaching down to finger Stiles's hole. “Are you sure you're ready?”

“Yes!” Stiles snaps. He's shaking under Peter's hands and he hates it. He's done this a hundred times. Nothing about this should be any different. “I'm sure I'm re-ah!”

Peter's cock throbs inside him and it's like his whole body is on fire. He's losing his mind.

“Yes, Peter, please, more!”

Stiles is begging, something he's never done before, and crying, something he's only done when there's blood. He's bucking under Peter's touch, trying to keep their bodies together just a little longer. He can't hardly think straight. His head is swimming. He can hear himself screaming but he can't do anything about it. Right before he comes, he thinks he hears Peter growl. He knows he feels fangs sink into his shoulder.

Later, after Peter's called for room service and made Stiles take another shower, they're curled together watching Doctor Who. Peter kisses his temple and says, “So, how much?”

Without missing a beat, Stiles replies.

“On the house.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.](http://delicatesammy.tumblr.com)


End file.
